


Father's Eyes are Everywhere

by Thewonderginger



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel, Ward Meachum - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual ward meachum, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stalking, care, masturbation mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewonderginger/pseuds/Thewonderginger
Summary: Ward Meachum can't get his father's face out of his mind. His paranoia takes over as he realizes how much of his life father saw, what happened in his bed...Danny finds Ward in an inconsolable state.





	Father's Eyes are Everywhere

        Ward closed his front door behind him sick to his stomach yet with nothing in his system, not even food. He looked into his loft, peering into every corner like there were eyes on him, like his eyes were on him. A flash of his Dad’s face and Ward jumped, dropping his briefcase and holding his head with his hands. He took a few stuttering breaths in, his eyes tearing up and shoulders tense, the events of the day playing over in his mind. It was gut wrenching.  
        Remembering his office and the box full of hidden cameras shook him. The crew he hired unscrewed and took apart every element in his office. Microphones we're hidden in lamps and his office phone. Cameras in the picture frames and computer. When he looked at all that they had gathered, at all the places they were hidden, he couldn’t believe the amount of devices there were. He would have to special issue new computers and phones for his office. A trustworthy provider not connected to the Hand. All the furniture, decor, vases, even picture frames, everything had to be replaced. He completely agreed with Danny that it was excessive but something inside him couldn’t risk it even if his Dad was dead. Cremated, burnt to a crisp before his very eyes, and yet…  
        The fear rose in Ward’s chest and tears trickled down his cheeks from his red eyes. He covered his mouth with his hand and folded his other arm across his chest trying to prevent himself from shaking. He had never wanted a hit so bad, even a drink, but he couldn’t. He was in recovery, and Danny had hired a sober companion to move in next week with him. He hated the idea. He didn’t need a babysitter. But he also didn’t trust himself. How could he? He never truly had anything of his own in his life. Not his work, that was orchestrated by Harold and the criminal organization of ninjas. Not his office, not his money, not even Joy in the end. The tiniest things he clung to, that used to be his, ‘Frank N. Stein’, the drugs to help escape if not for a short while, all those things that brought him temporary relief eventually became things of loathing, connected to Harold. This apartment was one of those things. He looked at all his belongings and couldn’t trust any one of them. This place would have to be gutted too. He grunted and threw down his hands as he tore his trench off. Harold’s eyes and ears were on him. He could feel them. Harold was coming back. He knew it was impossible and yet he could feel the man’s steady pace towards him even now.  
        “He’s dead!” He shouted at himself. “He’s dead! He can’t come back!” But what if he could…  
        Ward turned to the lamp on the small table by his door. He unplugged it and unscrewed the shade, the bulb that wasn’t too hot. Nothing there. He looked around the room and suddenly realized all the light fixtures that were in his home. So many. He should hire the crew again to do his house. Go to bed. Enjoy his day off tomorrow.  
        He went to the next lamp on the side table by his couch and unscrewed every piece of it. Nothing there. He looked to the television facing him. That would be a very obvious place. He went to the cupboard under the kitchen sink and grabbed his rarely used tool box. He brought it to the living room, placed it on the glass coffee table and plucked out a screwdriver. He looked to the tv and then around the loft, from the door to his office, his bedroom, his bathroom. He started breathing heavy. Then turned back to the television, heat in his glare. He shouldn't do this. He should just go to bed. Harold is gone. There's no one watching him.

        It was nearly 11am and Danny still hadn’t seen Ward at the office. Being there before his supernaturally punctual friend was a red flag if Danny ever saw one. He handled what he could at Rand but then made his way to Ward’s apartment, praying that he didn’t find a dead body. He walked down the hall, found Ward’s door number and knocked.  
        “Ward?” Danny asked through the wood. There was no answer. He knocked again rapidly.  
        “Ward!” he called out, not caring if the neighbors could hear him. He pounded on the door with his fist. A clanging sound came from inside.  
        “Ward its Danny, open the door!” Danny ordered. Now there was only silence. It lasted too long and Danny started panicking. His right hand was glowing yellow. He knew Ward wasn't fine yesterday like he insisted. Danny didn't listen to his gut and now his last connection to his old life, his friend, could be...  
        “Ward I’m coming in,” he announced pulling his chi into his fist and grabbing the door knob. He turned it hard past the locking mechanism breaking it. He tried to push through but another lock was in the way. Without hesitation Danny backed up and punched the door, the wood ripping on the three other dead bolts. He sprinted through the door and the sight that hit him was a shock.  
        He stepped forward accidentally crunching something beneath his foot as he saw the apartment in extreme disarray. All the lamps and lighting fixtures were unscrewed and taken apart. Danny walked forward careful not to step on anything and saw on Ward’s couch the dismantled television. He looked across the way into the open plan kitchen and saw every cupboard open. The microwave and toaster and been disassembled as well. It was just like Ward's office.  
        “Ward?” he called out, not seeing the brunette anywhere. He walked around the couch to head to the bedroom and found taken apart stools and drawers out of their cubbies. He made his way around the mess and walked to the hallway. All the pictures had been taken down and undone, frames, glass, and pictures stacked in piles along the hallway. He gazed at the items curious and confused continuing towards the open door.  
        “Ward!” he demanded in a thunderous tone. He turned the corner and finally saw him. Ward was sitting against the footboard of his bed staring at a wall, his eyes bleary and unfocused. There was a shoebox in front of him.  
        “Ward,” Danny said rushing to him, kneeling down and grabbing his shoulder.              “Ward are you okay, what happened?” He looked around the bedroom and it was in the same state as the rest of the apartment. Drawers sitting freely on the bed and lamps taken apart piece by piece. The television, unlike the one in the living room, was smashed on the dresser beneath it, a hammer discarded nearby on the floor. Then Danny noticed the smell. He looked to the other side of the bed where two large glass bottles were hiding, one of them half filled with amber liquid.  
        “No,” Danny shook his head, “Ward you were clean. You said you emptied the place. Where'd those bottles come from. Ward?” He shook Ward by the shoulders and his limp head turned towards Danny. Ward’s eyes were having trouble focusing but he eventually managed to make eye contact. A smile crept on his face with a small chuckle but a burp escaping him tore those expressions off. Danny turned his head away from the smell.  
        “Ward,” he insisted placing his hands on Ward’s cheeks and turning his face towards himself, “What. Happened?”  
        Ward’s head teetered dangerously as he turned it on the box in front of him. With Danny’s hands still on his face he lunged his hand forward and grabbed it. He lifted it up from the side and poured its contents ungracefully at Danny’s feet as tiny plastic bits rained down. Danny let go of Ward and backed up. He got on both knees and picked up the tiny things. Some of them had wires sticking out of them. Some of them had shiny dark lenses. Then Danny thought back to Bakuto’s surveillance room at the Hand compound. Him and Ward going through Harold’s computer at the art deco building. These were more cameras, listening devices, and other tech for spying. Danny sat cross legged staring at the pieces in his hand. He turned to Ward who had resumed staring at nothing. Danny placed his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. Ward didn’t react to the touch except to speak.  
        “Most of them were in my office,” he said with a slow defeated drawl. “Not surprised. All I was was another business asset to Harold.” He stopped and took a struggling breath in as a tear fell from his eye. “But I thought… I don’t know why I would.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze unchanging. “They were in here too”.  
        Danny looked around the bedroom and all its chaos. He saw where the television had previously been and turned around to see that it faced the bed. His eyes grew wide as he put the pieces together.  
        “Ward,” Danny started, “I’m sorr--”  
        “Do you think, he looked away?” Ward asked through a gasp. “Do you think he, I dunno, turned it off? When I brought girls home? When I brought guys?” He smiled with furrowed brows and his body shook from manic giggles. “How often did he watch me jerk off?” His eyes and mouth closed and tears trickled from both his eyes.  
        Danny looked down not sure what to say. Harold was insane before the Hand “cured” him. Danny couldn’t even confidently say that Harold would allow his son a caveat of privacy. They had seen the monster emerge its face from inside Ward's father that day on the roof. It wore his body, his face, but the eyes were wild and the sneer inhuman. Harold was a mask.  
        Ward’s head was still resting on the footboard, his sobs rising in his chest as he gritted his teeth. Danny squeezed Ward’s shoulder. But instead of shoving his hand away like Danny expected, Ward bent his elbow and grabbed the blonde's arm, holding on to it like it was the only thing solid in the room. His tears were silent but his body shivered just as much as before. Ward’s head turned to the alcohol and he gasped in shame. Danny was about to speak when Ward interrupted him.  
        “Danny,” he begged, “get rid of it!”  
       Danny moved swiftly to the bottle that was still filled and made his way to the bathroom. He passed the ripped down shower curtain and the items of the mirror cabinet that now filled the sink and poured the liquid down the toilet. He flushed, the smell occupying the room, and headed back to Ward. The man was now covering his eyes with the palms of his hands as his bottom lip shook. Danny walked back and kneeled next him. He gently placed his left hand on Ward’s corresponding shoulder. No response.  
        “You can stay at my place,” Danny offered. “I'll get someone to fix this.” He looked around the room with a long sigh then pinched the bridge of his nose. In sober Ward’s absence Danny was turning into his peer.  
        The suggestion seemed to give Ward a sudden spark of energy. “No, no,” he mumbled. “I'll clean it up, I'll--”.  
He tried to stand but his bare foot slipped on the wood floor and he fell back to the ground with a thud.  
        “Ward!” Danny called placing his hand on Ward's chest to catch him. Ward was doubled over and heaving. Danny moved his other hand on Ward's back, trying to calm him. “Dont. I'll get someone. It's okay”.  
        Ward shook for a minute, the two of them in silence, then he moved his hand to Danny's arm. He kept his head down as he slowly pulled Danny closer, like he was afraid of the touch but wanting it so badly. Danny was surprised but complied and gently held Ward. Ward clinged to Danny's arms with both of his and started sobbing. Danny had never seen Ward like this. They hadn't hugged since they were small kids. He was afraid of what sober Ward would say about this display. But right now scared, reasonably paranoid, drunk Ward needed help.  
        Ward conceded and rested his head on Danny's shoulder. He could feel the exhaustion in Ward's body. He rubbed his friend's back tenderly. His sobs quieted after a minute. Danny sat back to look Ward in the eyes which had turned blank behind the glassy tears. He handled the back of Ward's neck.  
        “I'm sorry Ward,” he said gently. “Let's get you to my place. Sleep it off there. Okay?”  
Ward slowly moved his pupils to meet Danny's. His expression was unreadable. But then he closed his eyes and nodded defeated.  
        “Okay,” Danny replied, and he slowly got Ward to his feet, throwing the slightly taller man's arm around his neck. “Let's find some shoes first.”  
        Ward stumbled while Danny carried him to the front door. At the shoe suggestion, the tiniest flick of a smile appeared on his face, then vanishing instantly as if it had never existed.  Though he knew what the comfort of sleeping in a different home would provide his instincts had taught him that it was only temporary. Feeling Danny's hand on Ward's wrist, his arm around Ward's middle, he took solace in defeat. It would be temporary, it wouldn't last, but that's all he needed right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is a standalone work it does tie in to my Ward/OC fic. Follow me at WardMeachumBlog.tumblr.com for more Ward content.


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